A Very Sweet Kind of Revenge
by ponine-cosette
Summary: Éponine gets revenge on the people who have hurt her most...except for not...sort of ÉponineGrantaire. Please R&R!
1. Looking Back

A Very Sweet Kind of Revenge

Every single day of the week. There was no escaping it. Sure, it brought in money, but none of it was used by or for her. Every franc she made went to her father, and whatever he spent it on, it sure as hell wasn't for her.

She practically had a new man every night. There were a few repeat customers, but she couldn't even distinguish one face from another, so she was oblivious to that. After a while they all sort of blended together. The pain was undeniable and unbearable, but it seemed she could never get away. If she ran or if she hid, her father or one of her clients found her and treated her worse because she hid from them.

She was lost in her thoughts as usual, sitting in her normal spot on the ground, peering into the subconscious depths of her feelings trying to harden herself against everything and everyone who had caused her pain. Lately it had been getting harder and harder to complete this numbing process, as she felt more and more helpless, and felt as though she would feel much better dead.

Her body, covered in bruises, gashes, and cuts, was aching for her to move towards the bridge over the Seine, and to throw herself into the water. But as street tough and hardened as she was, she was afraid. She was too scared to throw herself into the raging waters. Although every night she went to sleep and wished never to wake up, she could not kill herself. The only reason was a fear of the unknown mixed with the painful memories of an incident with this river that had happened some years before.

So, if anyone had been watching, they would have seen the gamine known as Eponine, huddled in a mass of rags, shivering uncontrollably and lapsing into coughing fits every so often. Her eyes were glazed over, and one could see nothing of the pain she kept inside herself. She looked as though she were daydreaming. Nothing more, nothing less.

Her silent reverie was interrupted by the sound of distant footsteps, echoing off the walls. Her eyes went back to their normal state, and her senses returned as she perked up, looking down the alley to the left, seeking out the source of the sound. A couple seconds later, she saw a shadow emerge out of the darkness. It was followed by the silhouette of a man, walking steadily down the alley towards her. She quickly turned her gaze down to her ragged chemise and pretended to be preoccupied with mending a hole in it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the figure approaching, closer and closer, until he came into full view. It was a police figure, Inspector Javert, the unmerciful law man. Her heart started to race. Perhaps he had found out about her stealing that loaf of bread from the bakery a few days back. She sure hoped not. She let none of her fear show, and appeared calm and occupied with the chemise. She felt her heart skip a beat when he came up to her. He was just standing before her, and she figured she'd better look up and address him.

"Monsieur?" she inquired softly, gazing up at him. She knew he was an uncaring, pitiless man and did nothing to help the position of the poor of Paris.

"Girl, what has happened to you?" he asked stiffly, peering at her bruises and cuts, no concern written on his horrid face.

She lowered her gaze, "I took a fall, monsieur Inspector." She lied, knowing the witty man would see right through it.

He paused a second, thinking. He looked at her frail and unhealthy thinness and decided he would have her for dinner to get the truth out of her. He knew she wouldn't refuse, not with her skinniness. He was, as she had guessed, not concerned for her, but, knowing that someone did this to her, and that she was in contact with the Jondrette man and Patron-Minette, he was looking to crack down on a law-breaker rather than saving her from her pain. He did, even with his heart of stone, feel a kind of pity for the poor creature, despite her record of injustice.

Finally, he resumed. "You will come with me for dinner." He commanded, instead of asking.

"And if I refuse?" she asked, sighing, knowing that was not an option.

"Come," said Javert, "We will get you some food." His voice cut through the chilly air like a knife.


	2. Javert

Javert and Eponine ducked into a small café and were approached by a tired-looking waitress.

"What would monsieur Inspector like?" she asked Javert, pointedly ignoring Eponine.

"Just coffee, and whatever mademoiselle would like." Javert replied, eyeing the waitress with a warning eye.

"This…person it with you, monsieur?" she asked, turning to look at the threadbare Eponine.

"She is indeed. Now go fetch what she would like, now."

"Right away monsieur."

Eponine stared at him in awe over the food that had arrived immediately after the waitress left. "No one has ever stood up for me like that, monsieur Inspector."

He eyed her uncaringly. What in the world did he care if no one ever stood up for her? He wasn't doing it for her, but for her information. He ignored the remark. The two ate in silence for a time.

"So," ventured Javert, "What is your name, mademoiselle?"

She was very reluctant to answer this question, but she knew it was mandatory. "Eponine The—Jondrette." She was hating herself inside. She had kept her identity as a Thenardier secret for how long now? How many years? How could she just slip this one time?

"Thejondrette?" Javert questioned. Eponine was a smart girl. She thought fast.

"Oh, monsieur I was about to say my middle name, Theresa, but I don't like it very much, so I proceeded to hide it from you. My name is Eponine Theresa Jondrette, monsieur Inspector."

"Oh, well that is a nice name." he lied. He hated the name Eponine, and the name Theresa. But he had brought the right girl with him, decidedly, because she was the Jondrette girl. She could lead to the arrest of her father and Patron-Minette, if she just let one thing slip about where these men met, so he could head them off. He just needed to make her talk. But how?

"I'm not sure why you're being so kind to me, monsieur Inspector, but I thank you." Said Eponine, tired of beating around the bush. "What is it you want of me?"

Javert, who was also a little tired of not getting to the point, was happy the Jondrette girl wasn't as stupid as he had anticipated. He just hoped to God the girl would talk. "Alright, Eponine." He thought a second longer. He was trying to think of how to appeal to her. He decided the first thing he'd try would be compassion. He knew he wasn't so good at that, but you never know until you try. "I'm getting a little worried about you."

Eponine sat up a little straighter and listened closely, knowing that this was lie, but wondering what he was getting at.

"You have many bruises that certainly didn't come from a fall, and you look as if you haven't had a bite in weeks. Who has done this to you?" he asked camly, finally getting some bit of concern onto his face.

She paused. So this is what he wanted! He wanted to use what her father and clients had done to her as a fuel for revenge! Then he would have her tell where to find her father and the rest of Patron-Minette during their little crime sprees. What would her father do to her if she told? She shuddered at the thought. Then, she remembered he'd be all the way in the can before he even knew that she had spoken a word. She thought for a while, weighing the circumstances and outcomes of her actions, or rather, her words. She only knew of two of her clients names, so only two would be involved at all, and that left the rest free to harass her and own her. She was quite undecided and Javert was getting anxious, but not impatient. He knew if he were impatient, he would ruin everything.

Eponine sighed, decided. " Monsieur Inspector,"

"Call me Javert." He interrupted her, trying to add a final touch.

She cringed inwardly at this. "Javert," she started again. "it is my father."

He urged her to go on. "What has your father done to you?" he asked her.

"He…he…sells me to people." She knew Javert would understand what that meant. "And he takes the money I earned and he spends in on himself. He hasn't fed me since I was a small child."

Javert looked her over. No matter how street wise and tough she was, she was still a small child. A young girl, scared, hungry, and ultimately pitiful. She was 16 years old, but she was very frail and fragile, as if she would break under the touch of a finger. He felt a pang of pity once more for the poor girl.

"Well, mademoiselle, I will see to it that he is put to justice."

"Very well."

"And by the way, do you know any of the names of the men who…"

She interrupted him. "I only know 2." She replied.

"Their names?"

"Montparnasse and Grantaire."


	3. Grantaire

NOTE: I don't know where to go from here. This is an experimental chapter, so please let me know if I should try to make a new one, or keep this one and fix things, or…n e thing else I haven't listed yet. I thank the few who reviewed the first 2 chapters (Javerts-Wench, Orestes Fasting, ourg), your support and constructive criticism really helped me out! Enjoy if this is good, if not…TELL ME!

1 YEAR INTO THE PAST

The café Musain was not crowded any longer. Most of les amis had already left, save for Grantaire. Grantaire was, as always, drunk. He didn't perceive that the rest of the students were gone, what was happening around him, and didn't know what he was saying, what anyone was saying to him, or anything.

This is where M. Thenardier ( or, as all people besides Marius and Valjean knew him, Jondrette) entered the café. He was trailed by a thin, rather ugly looking, dirty young girl of around 15. Thenardier looked around, hoping to find someone to beg for alms, then kicked Eponine in the leg and whispered to her, "Start crying."

"But…" she weakly protested.

"Do it!" he whispered harshly. She obeyed quickly and tried her best to summon tears from her eyes.

At this point, Thenardier had spotted Grantaire. 'Oh!' thought he, 'A student! Perhaps he will have mercy! Or money. Stupid boy, if he is one of the ones going to that damn barricade, I can just as well take everything he owns, for the brat will be dead within a month, no doubt.'

With Eponine in tow, Thenardier approached Grantaire, sporting a fake limp and hoarse voice. "Monsieur, do you have anything to give to me poor family? We are cold and hungry and me daughter is starved. Can ya spare anything, my good man?" Eponine sobbed (fake, I may add) at his side.

Grantaire, in his usual drunken half-stupor, was staring at Eponine through glazed eyes. He wasn't really looking at her, but it seemed that way. Thenardier mistook drunkenness for interest.

"You like my daughter, monsieur?" he inquired excitedly, still not forgetting to keep the hoarse voice. Eponine stopped fake crying and looked up, eyes wide. This is NOT what she had come here for.

"Ah, I'll take one…" by this Grantaire meant, 'I'll take one more drink', but Thenardier thought this meant he wanted Eponine for the night.

"Monsieur, 10 francs." Said Thenardier. It was a very, very high price, and for 10 francs a man could certainly get a better girl than Eponine.

"Look in my bag…" slurred Grantaire, pointing upward though the bag was at his feet.

Thenardier was confused by this. Nevertheless, he thought that the man must have been asking him to get the money out of his bag for him. So Thenardier opened the bag and searched through its contents for money.

He threw out a book, a stack of papers, and a wine bottle (no doubt what Grantaire had wanted Thenardier to 'look in his bag' for) before he found the money he had been searching for. He found fifteen francs. He took it all and shoved it into his pocket, then turned to face Grantaire again.

Thenardier then said "Thank you monsieur. You may return her when you like." And left Eponine with the drunkard in the café.

Eponine sat patiently with Grantaire, hoping he would never become sober, because then…she shuddered at what Grantaire had "paid" her father for. She hoped to God that, if and when he sobered up, he wouldn't be as harsh as that horrible Montparnasse she had met a year ago. A shiver ran down her spine just thinking about the horrid man. She saw his face in her minds eye, and shook her whole body, attempting to be rid of the haunting image, but to no avail.

Eventually, Grantaire sobered up a little. He suddenly saw that Eponine was sitting beside him and asked her "Who are you?"

She was startled and confused by the question, but answered anyway. "Eponine Jondrette."

"What are you doing hanging around me for, and where are les amis?" he asked.

Eponine raised an eyebrow at him. "You just paid my father for me. Your friends haven't been here for a while. Hours." She knew this because she had seen the other students leave earlier, as she had been, as always, spying on 'Monsieur the Baron Marius Pontmercy.'

Grantaire looked her over. "How much did I pay?"

"3 francs." Eponine lied. She was good at that.

"Oh." He said. "Well, I'm Grantaire. Nice to meet you."

Just then, a waitress at the café approached them and told them they would have to vacate the premises, providing that the café was closing.

They obeyed and stepped outside.

"Well, come along then, girl." Grantaire said to her. He saw the fear in her eyes and added, "No, no, not for that."

She didn't seem to understand. He could still see the fear in her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She stood indifferently. She had heard THAT line one too many times.

"I didn't MEAN to pay for you. I'm not going to do anything to you. You will come back with me to my place and sleep there. In my bed. I will take the couch."

She suddenly looked reassured. He found it funny how she could switch gears so suddenly.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to his apartment.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When Eponine awoke in the middle of the night, it was not because she was uncomfortable. No, no. She awoke because she was _too_ comfortable. Grantaire's bed was way too nice. Eponine couldn't remember ever having anything as nice as this (or anything at all, for that matter) to sleep on at night.

She heard Grantaire snoring in the other room. 'A nice man, but he certainly likes to drink.' She thought. He reeked of alcohol, so she could smell it in the air, in his room, in his bed.

She decided she must try to sleep while she had a bed to sleep in.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Grantaire (also) awoke in the dead of night, though a little later than Eponine. He could not sleep. He didn't really know why, because, usually, when he had been drinking, he would fall quickly, even involuntarily asleep. He couldn't imagine why he couldn't now. He blamed it on a restless mind.

Grantaire sat up on the couch and mused for a time. He thought about Enjolras first. He was usually the object of his thoughts. He chuckled softly upon remembering Enjolras' speech he had made the previous night. He had been launched into the speech about how the bourgeois stepped over the poor and dying in the street, and how the government didn't seem to have concern at all about the situation, and blah, blah, blah! On and on! Grantaire, who had brought up the subject, immediately regretted it when Enjolras sent out his powerful and passionate--lecture.

Though to Grantaire, almost everything Enjolras said was of interest and grand, this speech/lecture that he had heard 1000+ times was getting a little old. Snore fest.

He then thought about how he didn't even know what had happened during the meeting tonight. This then led him to thinking about how he didn't know when they had left, then that he didn't remember how he had gotten Eponine, then his thoughts turned to the girl herself.

He stood up and made his way over to his room, the room Eponine now occupied. He entered quietly, and seated himself in a chair at her bedside. He stared at Eponine as she slept. She was quite ugly. He felt a pang of pity for the poor girl. She looked so innocent as she was sleeping.

He remembered the fear that had been so clearly displayed in those dark eyes when she thought he was implying prostitution. She was obviously sold out by her father often. He knew she was very, very poor, and perhaps would do better to NOT be living with this father of hers. Well, it couldn't do anything worse. Judging by her thinness, he didn't feed her, so she would do just as well without this pathetic excuse for a father.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In the morning, Grantaire awoke early. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to see Eponine's pretty, dark eyes staring at him. He found these the only thing remotely attractive about her. She also was a little startled when he woke up so suddenly.

"Well good morning, mademoiselle." He said sleepily.

"Oh, and good morning to you as well, monsieur." She replied, obviously embarrassed that he had caught her in the act of spying on him (or watching him, either one'll do).

"So, I will walk you back to your father before I go to class."

"Very well." She said, rather sadly and pathetically. "Oh, and monsieur," she said, looking into his eyes for the first time. "Thank you."

He knew what she was thanking him for. "Your welcome, mademoiselle."

And they walked out of the door in silence. As they strode down the street, Eponine shivered violently, the January chill cutting fiercely through her pathetic excuse for clothing. Grantaire put his arm around her shoulder in an attempt to warm her up. She startled and flinched at the touch.

'Poor girl', Grantaire thought, 'she's even afraid to be touched at all! God only knows what hell has happened to her.' Then, he noticed a huge purple and black bruise on her shoulder.

He himself winced at this horrible bruise. Sensing that he had spotted it, she put her other thin arm atop the bruise in an attempt to hide it from Grantaire.

He looked at her nervously. "How did you get that?" he asked her.

"Oh, well, I, erm, I ran into a wall the other day…" 'oh, how pathetic!' Eponine thought. 'Nice going, 'Ponine. I ran into a wall! What kind of excuse was that!' She sighed.

Grantaire knew she was lying, but didn't try to delve any deeper into her affairs. Lord knew he wouldn't like what he found.


	4. Grantaire Drunk no surprise

NOTE: Man oh man! Look what I've gotten myself into! An Eponine/Grantaire fic. Oh dear. We'll have to make sure I don't go totally OOC on Eponine or Grantaire's part(s)…if I haven't already…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Montparnasse shifted back into a shadow. He waited a few seconds, and then peeked around the corner cautiously. He had thought for a moment that she had seen him. He had obviously been mistaken, for she looked as though she was absolutely preoccupied in anything other than the thief that was following her.

He let out a sigh of relief, and continued to follow her at a distance. He followed her around a few more corners, growing more and more suspicious of her destination and intentions.

He felt anger boiling in his veins when she stopped before the Café Musain. The hell! She was hanging around students! She wanted their company over his! She wanted THEM to be her customers, instead of him! How dare she! He would have to teach her a lesson. Not now, but later. Right now, he must find his target; a student she fancied.

He knew that she had met several students, but apparently there were 2 that she liked particularly; he had heard her mumbling their names. "Mary and Granter". Strange names for boys, but oh well. That was what their names were. Or so he thought. Mumbling can produce false hearing in the one who listens to the mumbler (mumbler, my new word ).

So, Montparnasse continued to watch her, until she disappeared into the café. Then, he sneaked around the back and entered. He then spotted her, being confronted by a blonde haired, blue eyed man. Or rather, Montparnasse noticed, upon looking closely at him, a boy. He was one of the students at the Sorbonne, no doubt. Montparnasse took a wild guess about the rest of the men/boys crowding this back room. He guessed they were all students. No one even needed to tell him that he was right.

He listened closely to the two (Eponine and this blonde student) conversing.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave, or go to another room of the café, please." The student said politely.

"Alright." She shrugged and said.

"Thank you for understanding." The boy said. Then, under his breath, he added "You will be free soon enough."

"Pardon?" Eponine looked confused by this.

"I was just saying," The blonde revolutionary answered, "That you will be free of uncaring bourgeoisie and government. Soon." Then he muttered, once again under his breath, "not that there is a difference between the two…"

She knew better than to inquire about the somewhat incoherent mumbling again, so she turned from the boy and went into the main room of the café, obviously waiting for the meeting of the students to be adjourned.

Montparnasse had not the time, nor inclination to wait for this meeting to end. He left the way he had come, and once again disappeared into the shadows.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eponine sat in the main room of the Café Musain. How long had she been there? It felt like hours, and most likely had been. She sighed and sank back into the chair she now occupied. She was drawing disgusted stares from the other diners and felt increasingly unwelcome, but, nevertheless, she remained there.

She (FINALLY!) heard the door to the back room of the café open, and the students exiting, chatting amongst themselves. She tagged along behind Marius.

"Hello, Monsieur Marius!" she cried gleefully.

"Oh, hello there Eponine." He said rather dully, but politely, nevertheless.

"Monsieur Marius, how has your day gone?" she asked, though it was obvious he did NOT want to talk, especially not to the likes of her. But that had never stopped her before.

He turned to face her, a look of annoyance apparent on his charming face. "It has gone well Eponine." He said. He turned back around, and engaged in a conversation with Combeferre.

She was disappointed. She couldn't talk to her darling Monsieur Marius now! She still felt a joy that he had called her Eponine, though it was dampened by the fact that he had used _vous_ with her, as opposed to _tu_. She sighed and turned back into the café.

She went into the back room, the one the students had occupied. She sat down and sighed. Alas, the unrequited love! How sad (don't worry, we won't linger too long on the Eponine-wishes-she-had-Marius-blah-blah-blah thing. I know it's not welcome! I just HAD to mention it though. It's a fact of the story, you know!).

"Something wrong?" the voice startled her, and she looked around wildly for the owner of the voice. She had thought she was alone!

Her eyes settled uneasily upon Grantaire, who was seated in the corner. He was the one who had spoken. He had 2 wine bottles before him, one half empty (or half full, it depends on how you look at it ), one full.

"Nothing is wrong, Monsieur Grantaire." She answered wistfully, not meeting his gaze.

He laughed. "There is always something wrong, Eponine." He laughed once more. "Now what is it that is bothering you? You can tell me."

She was quite startled by his use of the word _tu_. She certainly didn't know this man very well, and much less than she knew Monsieur Marius, and HE still used _vous. _She fumed inwardly at this.

She sighed once again. Well, what did she have to lose upon telling this no-doubt drunk man about her problems? He wouldn't remember, nor would he care. She always did need someone to talk to. Not to converse with, just someone who would listen. She knew God didn't, if He even existed, because He had never once answered any of her pitiful prayers.

Grantaire had sat patiently while she thought this all over. She began to speak. "Well, I, erm, I 'ave done everything I can for this one person. I 'ave brought 'em to another woman, despite the way I feel. I 'ave nothing else left to do for 'im. And 'e still don't even want to talk to me."

"There, there, dear." Grantaire answered. "I have a similar problem." He said with a slight slur to his words.

Eponine raised her eyebrows at this. She might as well at least PRETEND to care. Strangely enough, she sort of did. "Well, who is it that you is having a problem with, Grantaire?"

"My idol. My life. The one person that I look up to and down at. We are all going to die." He laughed. "We are all going to die! How wonderful!" and then…he passed out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	5. The Attack

**A/N: So dreadfully sorry about the long gap between updates! My computer got a virus recently, we just got it back, and I have another fic to keep up with, those of you who follow "Possibilities", you know what I mean. Enjoy!**

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"Get outta here! We're closing! Out!" and with that, the owner left and the night was silent once more, leaving Grantaire sprawled outside of the Café Musain. He breathed in shallowly and then tried to get into a standing position, unsuccessfully. He fell back to the ground with a thud, crying out in pain.

He felt as though he were slipping in and out of consciousness. He blacked out for a few seconds, but then felt someone touch him, causing his hearing to become more acute, and he managed to stay conscious. "Whha?" he managed to get out, falling backwards.

Someone had a weak grip on him, struggling to keep him up. "Monsieur Grantaire, where do you live?" a hoarse voice asked.

He opened his eyes and peered up at the person inquiring this of him. The image swam before his eyes.

"It's me, Eponine. Remember?" the rough voice continued.

"Eh...yeah..." he coughed.

"Where do you live?" Eponine repeated.

"O'er there..." Grantaire slurred, pointing upward.

Eponine looked up, then sighed deeply, beginning to try to heave the drunk at least out of the middle of the road.

Grantaire couldn't hold out much longer. He was immensely drunk, and his motor skills were completely obliterated in the wine's wake. He fancied a strange ringing in his ears. He thought he heard a scream, but the ringing drowned out everything else as he sank to the ground.

The arms let go of Grantaire, and he fell to the ground with a sickening crack as Eponine screamed and struggled against her attacker.

"Quiet you useless little slut! It'll be worse for him than you!"

Eponine continued to let out muffled cries. The man smacked her across the face and she crumpled to the ground, holding her bloodied nose and lip. She refused to be beaten. She crawled to the man and groped for his ankle, biting his leg, screaming some more and attempting to bring him down.

The assailant kicked her off of him, sending her flying across the dirt. He pulled a knife from his pocket, smiling as he handled it delicately. He walked slowly towards the unconscious Grantaire, quickly glancing at Eponine to make sure she stayed put.

He stopped beside the drunkard, staring down at him. The fool! He gave him a sharp kick before posing the knife to strike.

"Eh! You there! Get away from here! Out! You hear?"

The man turned to find himself face to face with a man holding a bayonet. It was the owner of the Musain. He had undoubtedly heard the bloody girl's screams and come out to see what the commotion was.

Eponine let out one last scream, then fell flat on her face on the dirt, pretending to have passed out. This temporarily distracted the owner, which had not been Eponine's intention in the slightest, and the owner turned towards her for a brief moment.

He turned back toward the attacker, gun cocked. He let out a gasp. The man was gone.

000000000000000000000000000000

_Crack_.

The knife landed in the side of the tenement wall.

Montparnasse pried it out and backed up. Furiously, he plunged it into the wall again.

_Crack._

He was completely enraged. He had had the chance to kill one of those students that night, but that man with the bayonet had cut the fun short, making it hard for him to kill the man properly. He had planned to murder the student, Eponine having a front row seat, as carefully as he pleased, leaving him at the spot and dragging Eponine with him.

But this had been short lived when Eponine passed out and the man appeared.

He pulled it out again.

_Crack._

It drove into the wall once more. Montparnasse took the knife from the wall for a final time, taking it above his head and slashing at the wall. He randomly cut away at the wall, making a number of long cuts in it.

When he had let all of his anger out, he replaced the knife in his pocket and walked out the door. He planned to find Eponine. He would teach her a lesson.

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**A/N #2: What other sound does a knife make when being drilled into a wall? I could only think of 'crack'. oh well.**


	6. Éponine and Grantaire

**A/N: I apologize in advance for Éponine's long and confusing drivels…**

**0000000000000000000000000000000000**

Grantaire awoke to something cold on his forehead. He heard voices conversing, but they sounded far away. He listened intently, eyes closed.

"What happened?"

"Last night, he passed out in front of the Musain, and a man tried to attack him."

"Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine, but he really should stay away from all that wine."

"I've tried to tell him that for the longest…never mind. How long do you think he'll be out?"

"Oh, he should be coming around any time now, I figure, monsieur."

"When he's well enough bring him to see me at the Musain, alright?"

"Of course."

"Thanks for taking care of him."

"It is not a problem, monsieur."

Enjolras looked her in the eye one last time before turning towards the door, leaving Éponine alone with Grantaire.

Grantaire heard the conversation, but didn't understand. Everything sounded fuzzy, and his eyelids were tremendously heavy.

He felt the cold on his forehead once more and moaned softly at the feel of it. Éponine was startled and dropped the wet rag that she had been dabbing Grantaire's forehead with.

"Monsieur Grantaire?" she asked. "Are you awake? Monsier Grantaire?"

He made another sound and opened his eyes slowly.

"Monsieur Grantaire, it's me, Éponine." she said soothingly. "Do you remember who I am?"

He groaned, and Éponine sighed softly. He probably would be out of it for a little while longer, so it was probably no use asking him questions now.

She picked up the rag once more and continued wetting his forehead with it. Grantaire struggled to remember what had happened, and where he was.

He had been at the Musain earlier. Yes, he knew that much. He had been there and he had had wine. Lots of wine. And then…everything else was pretty much a blank. He closed his eyes, concentrating very hard, trying to figure out what one earth was going on. Usually, when he woke up not remembering the night before, he woke up in his bed. He was in his bed, he thought, but Éponine was with him. And someone else had been in the room. A man. He couldn't figure out who he was, though.

He opened his eyes, though he had not gotten anywhere with his investigation. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again. He gazed intently at Éponine, who looked lost in thought.

"Éponine…" he managed to get out.

She snapped back to her senses and looked rather startled that he had spoken. "Monsieur Grantaire, are you awake? Can you hear me?" she asked slowly.

Grantaire nodded. "What happened…?"

Éponine cringed. "It was Montparnasse." She said disgustedly. "You were nearly unconscious outside of the Café Musain, and I found you and tried to bring you back to your home, I did."

There she paused, to let Grantaire's mind digest the information.

"Go on..."

"Well, then Montparnasse came and…to make a long story short, he tried to kill you. So I attacked him and screamed at the top of my lungs, you see, Monsieur Grantaire, and the owner of the café heard me and came outside. So then Montparnasse ran…and you fainted."

Grantaire tried to comprehend. "Oh." Was all he could say.

"Oh! If you only knew how much I worried, worried about you, Monsieur Grantaire! You sat here unconscious and I said to your blond friend, I said, 'He will take a while to come to.' That man thought you might not be alive! I told him otherwise, I did. He left you here with me and I watched you to make sure you would be alright. Oh! You have no idea how long I have waited here with this rag in my hand and…are you feeling well? Does your head hurt? Would you like some water?"

Grantaire blinked twice. He wondered if this girl had even taken a breath throughout her long drivel. He thought her a tad crazy at the moment. His mind hadn't quite encoded exactly what she had said yet, but he got the feeling that most of it was irrelevant. He suddenly remembered she had been talking about his 'blond friend'.

'Enjolras!' he thought to himself. 'No, it could not have been him. He would not come to see me!'

"My friend came by…?" he asked slowly.

"Oh yes, Monsieur Grantaire, your friend did come by. A very nice fellow, he was. He had very blue eyes and pretty blond hair." Éponine was in fact envious of Enjolras hair.

"Enjolras…?"

"Oh yes! That was it! Yes! He was the one who came by! Such a noble name, I say. How long have you known him? Do you go to school with him?"

"I…have known him a while."

"Oh, well that is good, Monsieur Grantaire, to have a long time friend, I mean. I have a long time friend as well, I do. His name is Marius. Marius Pontmercy. Do you know him? We are very close friends. He comes to talk with me all the time! Sometimes, most of the time, I guess all of the time we talk about Cosette! Cosette, the girl from the Rue Plumet. Yes, she is a nice girl. She is my friend too! I come to see her when I deliver the letters…I deliver letters all of the time! They make my two friends very happy! Oh yes, it is good to have friends!"

Grantaire felt overwhelmed with pity by now. He could now figure out Éponine's story and situation. She liked Marius, no doubt, but Marius loves this Cosette, of whom he talks constantly at the café. Éponine must be the one who exchanges the letters for them.

Grantaire sighed slightly and used the energy he had to sit up. Apparently this had been the only energy he had; he sank back down, head pounding.

"Oh no! You should not have sat up Monsieur Grantaire, oh that was a bad thing to do! It will take longer for you to be better, it will!"

"Please, just…call me Grantaire. No more 'monsieur.'" Grantaire said to the girl, annoyed by her and pitying her at the same time.

"Oh that is wonderful that you let me call you by your name! Oh how wonderful! You have made my day Mons…I mean, Grantaire! Oh how nice it is to say your name! Grantaire! Grantaire!"

This girl was obviously delirious from lack of food and, as it seemed, lack of love. He sighed gently and held up an arm to quiet her. She was silenced immediately.

"Why don't you go get some food from the cupboard? It's over there." He said gesturing to the left.

The girl nodded happily. "Of course, of course! You must be hungry Grantaire--"

"Oh, no." he interrupted. "It's for you. You must eat."

She looked confused. "Eat…?"

"Yes! You must eat some food, Éponine! And bring me some bread as well. Help yourself to anything over there."

Still looking slightly confused, Éponine stood and obeyed.

She came back with two loaves of bread. She handed him one, and kept one in her hands.

He kept still, eyeing her closely.

She stared at the bread, turning it over in her hands. She gripped it tightly, as if afraid that it might disappear.

"Well, are you going to eat?" he asked her.

"I…guess I am going to eat." She replied, and cautiously took a bite of the bread. After the first bite, she began eating it like the crazed and starved teenager that she was.

Satisfied, Grantaire began to eat his own bread. When they were finished, they sat in silence, Grantaire with his eyes closed.

"How long have I been here?" Grantaire asked suddenly.

Éponine jumped slightly, then answered. "I am not quite sure! But, oh! I have forgotten! Grantaire, your friend Enjolras, he said for me to bring you to him when you are well, he did! Quick, can you stand?" she asked quickly, tugging gently on his arm.

With Éponine's assistance, Grantaire stood and walked slowly out of the door. They descended the stairs with much difficulty.

They then started down the road towards the Café Musain.


End file.
